Another Roll of the Dice
by daisydoctor13
Summary: Campbell is a name spoken in awe by con artists everywhere. Very few are lucky enough to have met her, even fewer work with her. She likes control and doesn't trust easily, and doesn't have anything in her life that she can't walk away from in a second. There's one thing she didn't plan for though - meeting a Ms. Berenice Wolfe.
1. The Return of Serena Campbell

**A/N: I've messed around with the timeline a little, but essentially, it's set when they're in their mid-forties, and Adrienne died earlier. Although the storyline is borrowed from Hustle, I've tried to ensure you don't need to have watched it to understand what's going on. All of the characters will be from Holby, it's just the general premise and cons I've used from Hustle. Hope you all enjoy!**

Serena leant against the railings of the balcony, observing the city below her and absorbing the atmosphere. The rush of cars and people were a contrast to the river rolling towards the sea. It was quiet from where she was, a penthouse apartment she had _borrowed_ from an oil exec she had met the previous night. He was currently travelling to Saudi Arabia on a fruitless search for his next fortune.

She smirked, it would be a few weeks before he was back and find this place exactly as he'd left it. Well, minus the rather nice bottle of Shiraz she'd found in the wine rack. She took a deep breath in, considering her immediate future. It had been almost a year since she'd been in London and she wasn't sure where any of her old team were. Except Arthur, of course. The last place she'd been before she'd left for America was his grave.

Her young protégé, a natural grifter because no one thought to look twice at him. He had an honest face and a quick mind. His death had been a blow to Serena; she'd had a few lucky escapes in her time, it came with the lifestyle, but for him to die so young from a disease that couldn't be controlled had left her wondering whether it was all worth it.

She'd started grifting because the world wasn't fair. It had taken her mother too early, despite Adrienne never setting a foot wrong (at least not in the law's eyes), working hard to contribute to society and the Alzheimer's had stripped everything away, in her late sixties. She was juggling a young child, an ill mother and a high-flying job as a business analyst, and Edward had topped it all off with an unimaginative affair with his secretary, then the childminder. Those were just the ones she knew about. Serena had been angry at a world where honest people were treated cruelly, be it by fate, the government, whoever, and yet greed and immorality seemed to reap rewards.

So, determined to get revenge on Edward, who only cared about money, she conned him. It cost her a chance of a close relationship with her daughter, but what had begun as a grudge turned into a thrill. The planning, the control and the chase made her feel alive and she excelled at it. She decided to start a new life, building a reputation. and restore balance by finding crooks and stinging them.

When Arthur had died, she found herself losing the taste for it. He had been too young and watching the effect it had on Morven was hard to watch. She lost faith in herself, her sense of morals shifted as she considered whether anyone was actually in control of their own destiny. She had been getting cocky, wanting to pull off bigger cons and putting herself and the team in too much danger.

After the funeral, Morven told her she would be leaving. Not only the team, but the UK altogether. She couldn't do it without Arthur, so left for the Caribbean. Serena had decided it was time to take a step back, to reassess what she wanted in life. She wasn't getting any younger after all. So, a year ago she had packed her bags and gone over to America to meet a few old contacts from her Harvard days.

Now, she was back. Refreshed, renewed and ready to start again. The time away had been good, but she had missed the old days, her mind constantly whirring without a plan to pull off. She inhaled deeply, felt at home, back in the bustle of London with the familiar city skyline standing tall and welcoming her like an old friend. There were only a few things missing. She checked her watch and smiled. Time for a stroll, she decided.

The place she wanted was a short walk from the apartment, a deserted street with a plain façade. Unassuming but it stood out to her. The sign above the door was barely noticeable, especially in the dim evening light, and the flaking paint of the door greeted her. Sacha's bar, her second home in London, was the best place to start her search for old contacts.

She descended the stairs and frowned; it was loud, with chatter and music surrounding her. She didn't know what she had expected, it had been a year after all, but she felt a slight disappointment when she saw a group of businessmen sat in their booth. The booth that had hosted so many conversations, plans, celebrations.

She vaguely registered a few wolf whistles as she walked past and smiled to herself. _Still got it._ She leant on the bar and cleared her throat, at least one thing hadn't changed: Sacha with his flowery shirts and warm smile, hair a little longer than when she last saw him.

"What can I get for – no!" The routine greeting was cut short as he broke into a huge grin. "Serena! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a bit of peace and quiet, but I've obviously come to the wrong place," she raised an eyebrow and looked around the bar.

"Well, I had to find some way to turn a profit after my best customers disappeared. Not that you paid for your drinks that often," he added with a chuckle. "The credit crunch hit, bankers have been more stressed and word of mouth got round that this place existed, underground and out of sight. Perfect for a few afternoon drinks."

Serena pushed a note over the bar with a nod.

"The usual please, and do you mind if I stay here until you close up?"

He filled a large glass with Shiraz and nodded in understanding before turning to the next customer.

Two hours later the bar had emptied, as had a second glass in Serena's hand. She had waved off the offers from men to buy her another. Sacha locked the door and gestured for her to sit in the booth.

"What's brought you back to London?"

"I was getting restless. I missed it too much, once a grifter always a grifter I guess. I want to get the team back together. With a couple of additions maybe."

"Is Morven coming back?"

She shook her head.

"I don't blame her, she needs the fresh start. Sacha, have you seen the other two?"

"Not since the funeral. I've heard a few murmurs of Fletch among the guys that come here, but nothing about Henrik."

"Thanks, I'll ask around." She stretched, the jet lag catching up with her. Her search could continue in the morning.

She entered the boxing gym and wrinkled her nose as the smell of sweat and cloying deodorant hit her. Shouts of personal trainers cut over the loud music, the sort that you felt rather than listened to. She felt out of place but didn't let it show, striding to the desk purposefully. The receptionist looked up from his phone with a bored expression.

"I'd like to speak to Ric Griffin, please," she smiled politely, but his expression didn't change. He sighed and picked up the desk phone.

"Who shall I say is asking?"

"An old friend."

She didn't want to give her identity away, although the lad looked like he couldn't care less. She assumed Ric probably had a few mystery visitors and his staff knew to keep their mouths shut.

"Ric, some woman in a suit wants to see you. Says she's an old friend."

A slight pause ensued, during which he looked Serena up and down.

"Brown hair, I dunno about the same height as you, in heels... No, not French, kind of posh… Hmm no a bit older than that."

Serena raised her eyebrow but he merely placed the receiver down and pushed back from the desk.

"Follow me."

He left her outside an office, she knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

"Well, well, Rocky Griffin. Finally making an honest living I see."

If he was surprised by the bold interruption he didn't show it.

"Now, there's a sight for sore eyes. Serena, I thought it might be you," he grinned and got up to hug her.

"After you'd ruled out your latest girlfriend, no doubt. French?"

He laughed. "I wouldn't say girlfriend. We're keeping it casual until she's divorced her husband. I don't want to get on the wrong side of him, he's a bit of a thug and has a lot of contacts."

She shook her head despairingly.

"I'm assuming this isn't a social call," he prompted, clearly wanting to change topic.

"I'm looking for Fletch."

"I've not seen him in months. Heard he'd retired, well, from grifting anyway."

She frowned, if Fletch wasn't willing to join her again she wasn't sure what she would do. She trusted him implicitly and she doubted she would find another fixer as good as him.

"And Henrik?"

"Ah, I might be able to help with that one," he twisted a pen between his fingers. "Her Majesty offered him a guest room, in Wandsworth."

"The prison?" A nod confirmed it and she sighed. She didn't know how Henrik had ended up there, but he was her only hope of finding Fletch, and new members of the team.

"Serena, are you getting back into cons?"

"I need to, Ric. I've been away a long time, but it was my life. I don't know what else to do," she paused, regarding Ric with a hopefully smile. "I don't suppose…"

"No, no. I'm done with all that."

"It was worth a try," she patted his hand and winked. "Good luck with the new girlfriend."

She stood to leave but Ric stopped her.

"Before you go I think you should know. I've heard a few rumours that in the time you've been gone there's some new blood out there, filling the gap as it were. I don't know details but there's one name that keeps getting mentioned. The Major."

Serena quirked an eyebrow, she hadn't heard the name before, and she had a lot of international contacts. "Sounds intriguing, army?"

Ric shrugged. "Just watch out okay?"

The Major. She'd have to make enquiries, although if he turned out to be some hierarchical old boys club army type she didn't want to be associating with him.

The prison guard received the full force of the Serena Campbell stare when he was slightly firmer than necessary during his search. She straightened her jacket and smoothed her hair as she followed him through to the visiting area. Henrik nodded slowly at her as she regarded him. He looked well, clean shaven in a crisp suit and waistcoat, impeccable as always.

"Do I want to know?" She questioned, knowing he wasn't one for superfluous greetings. He twitched the corner of his mouth into a smile.

"I may have had a slight disagreement with the surveillance officers about what counts as cheating in a casino."

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. She suspected he had an ulterior motive for being in prison, considering how many times he'd manage to elude capture, but she trusted that he would tell her if necessary.

"How are you, Serena?"

"Good, I'm glad to be back, and itching to get started again. Although I'm rather on my own at the moment. But how about you? Prison seems to be treating you well."

As if on cue, a prison guard approached, a cup and saucer in hand, and placed it on the table. Henrik's skills of bringing people round and charming were clearly universal, working just as well in this world as it did on the rich city big wigs.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I've been keeping up with everything in the outside world as well. I've got something that might interest you, if you're up for it."

"A mark?"

"Yes, and an address, for a certain Cockney fixer."

His lips twitched again as he saw her shift forwards in her seat, eager for the information.

Henrik indicated for the guard to come over and he returned with an envelope. On it, in his elegant cursive script, was a company name.

"He's usually there about lunchtime, fleecing the city boys. I'm sure he can be persuaded to rejoin the long con game."

She hoped so. She flicked open the envelope to find several photographs, obviously taken in some sort of surveillance operation. She didn't want to know how Henrik had managed to get these from inside.

"This is Emily Lewis, she makes money out of other people's misery. Tendered for rebuilding programmes in China after the earthquake, maximised profits by bribing officials and avoiding building regulations. She's been in Eastern Europe recently, buying land and sending in thugs if they don't want to leave. I believe she's looking to enter the money markets now the recession has hit."

Serena nodded and studied the photos. She was a similar age to Serena, with glossy blonde hair, sharp and severely cut just above her shoulders. A slight downturn of her lips gave her a serious, determined expression. She was dressed to impress in a trouser suit, most likely designer, slim fitting. The photo finished before her legs did but Serena could tell they went on for days. She could see how this woman had managed to convince so many to part with their money, the confidence and charm was oozing from the paper. Serena pursed her lips, it was a shame she was about to sting her for a lot of money.

Henrik was watching her with an amused expression. She purposefully ignored it, placing the envelope into her jacket pocket.

"I've got a front for you already. You will be Harriet Sharpe, a maverick trader who hates the system, so is always looking for ways to cheat it and only deals in cash."

"And how do we reel her in?"

"Mr Fletcher will help with that. She thinks all men in the City are rude misogynists."

"She's not wrong there," Serena huffed, earning a chuckle from Hanssen.

"Indeed, so give her what she expects. An obnoxious investor, cheating on his wife with someone much younger, you know the sort."

She nodded and smiled. She knew all too well, she'd been married to one for long enough.

"You seem to have put a lot of thought into this, Henrik," Serena observed and he pulled his lips into a thin line, not giving anything away.

"I've had time on my hands."

She stood slowly then stopped, regarding him carefully.

"One more thing, Henrik. I spoke to Ric and he warned me about another grifter. The Major. Do you know anything about him?"

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him look so smug.

"I couldn't possibly say. I'm sure you'll meet soon enough. It's a small world out there."

Serena was used to his infuriating riddles by now, so didn't push any further. She had a plan to put together, and some shopping to do.

 **A/N: Random fact for you: one of the actors in Hustle (who plays the equivalent of Bernie in the actual show) was also in Holby City - she played Mickie Hendrie the nurse who had a relationship with Donna Jackson.**


	2. The Con is On

Bernie ran her fingers through her hair, surprised again to find it smooth and straight. She mentally checked herself, her habit had to stop if she wanted to keep her image of a sleek and polished businesswoman.

She looked once more at the picture she was hiding in the stock pages of her newspaper, then glanced around at the other tables. The hotel was high class, and that was reflected in the clientele. Dark mahogany tables, leather seats and silver service for breakfast. It stank of dirty money, snobbery and privilege. The man in the photo was the embodiment of this. Waistcoat, pocket watch and slick black hair that seemed more oil than hair. Brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth, she was sure.

"Table for one, right in the middle please, son." She peered over the top of her newspaper and smiled to herself. Andrew Taylor-Smith, there was no doubt it was him. The table he was being shown to was the one next to her. _Perfect._

She straightened her back, putting on her newest persona. She studied the paper, tilting it slightly towards her new neighbour as she knocked back her espresso.

"Fancy a dabble in the markets, old girl?"

She bit her immediate retort back, knowing that she had to be disinterested, not aggressive, if she wanted to get anywhere. She left a slight scowl on her face and stared at him, partly to maintain her composure, but mainly to make him squirm. He had a high forehead, clearly his hairline was starting to recede, and a long thin nose. He took pride in his appearance, with a fashionable stubble and a cloud of cologne surrounding him.

He didn't seem to notice that she hadn't said anything, evidently loved the sound of his own voice.

"A friend of mine made a killing last week, from oil. I wouldn't mind but he's a bloody moron."

He laughed loudly, and she forced a humourless smile. In her opinion he wasn't much better. He stared after the waitress who had just placed a coffee and a large brandy on his table. His tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth. He looked back up at Bernie, as if remembering he had something to do.

"Apparently he got a tip off."

"Oh?" She was surprised he had brought up the topic of insider knowledge so quickly. Of course, she already knew that he was closely acquainted with a Ms. Sharpe, who made her money by always being one step ahead of the stocks and shares. She was intrigued that he would mention it to a total stranger, although he was probably looking to impress. To Bernie's understanding he fancied himself as a ladies' man.

"Well, it's the only way to make money. Unless you've got an inside track, you're trading with the rest of the plebs. And we don't want that, do we?"

Another loud laugh and she smirked.

"Absolutely not." She flicked the newspaper and turned away from him, showing disinterest and hopefully a small amount of disgust. She waited for his next move. _One, two, th-_

"Andrew Taylor-Smith," he announced, despite her not looking at him at all. She smiled briefly to herself before turning back with pursed lips.

"Emily Lewis." She took his proffered hand and he gripped it tight. They stared at each other, at an impasse, before she tugged her hand away. "Are you here on business?"

He shook his head and winked. "Mistress. Old girl's at home with the kids, I'm here to roger a delightful young girl senseless for the weekend."

"Lucky her," Bernie wasn't sure whether the pitying sarcasm was for this man's wife or mistress. Probably both. She sighed and threw down her paper as he joined her without an invite, bringing a coffee and a brandy.

"I tell you who you should talk to, if you're new to the markets. A friend of mine, makes more money than anyone I know."

She feigned innocence, not wanting to show her inside knowledge.

"What's his name?"

He laughed and sipped his coffee before answering.

" _Her_ name is Harriet Sharpe. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her. She's got instincts, she was the first to buy shares in Ebay, and the first to jump ship from Northern Rock, well before its share prices crashed."

She nodded, seeming impressed.

"There's an article on her," he waved down a waiter. "Do you have today's Independent?"

The man nodded and moments later she was presented with the newspaper. Andrew reached into his pocket and retrieved a business card.

"I don't know if you're interested but I'm having a bit of a soirée this evening. A meet and greet as it were. Maybe we could get to know each other a bit better," he leaned towards her with a wink and she retreated into her chair. The mixture of alcohol on his breath and cologne was overpowering.

"What about your mistress?"

He chuckled, "Oh I'm sure she won't mind."

Bernie pulled a face, trying to give him clear signals that she was not interested.

"Harriett Sharpe will be there."

She pursed her lips, as he wrote on the business card. She considered for a moment.

"My hotel, penthouse suite." He dropped it on the table and stood, putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. "7:30, casual nibbles and drinks. I do hope you can attend."

As he walked off she shuddered then picked up the newspaper, flicking through until she saw the familiar face.

* _Harriet Sharpe defies credit crunch with £20 million profit_ * was the headline, with a black and white photograph of the woman herself. Cropped hair, sharp skirt suit with a fitted blouse, opened just low enough for a hint of cleavage. Bernie had seen photos already, of course, but she really was arresting. Just a shame she had made her money by cheating on the markets.

She pulled out her phone, waving for the waiter to bring another coffee. The call was answered after a few rings.

"Dom, it's me. I hope you've had your suit dry cleaned. We've got a party tonight."

"Serena, I think we've got a nibble," Fletch's voice crackled down the phone, it sounded windy. She smiled and opened her laptop. It hadn't been hard to convince him to start long cons again, in fact he had been missing it himself but unable to do anything on his own. He had jumped at the chance to snare Emily Lewis and hadn't let her down.

"Fantastic, I've got the website set up, hopefully she'll log on soon. Do you think she'll be there tonight?"

"Yep, she was doing her best to look disinterested but her eyes lit up when she read that newspaper article."

"Well if she thinks we can make her money, she won't be able to resist."

Serena relaxed back into the sofa, smiling. The fake Independent with the article had been a genius idea of Fletch's, and she was glad he'd managed to plant it at the restaurant without anyone noticing.

"Now what we need is about 15 or 20 people that are up for a free champagne reception tonight."

"I'm already on it boss, calling in a few favours."

"Thank you Fletch. I'm still looking for new members of the team, though. You don't happen to know what Jac Naylor is up to?"

"What, Jacula? She's long gone."

Serena sighed, she hadn't worked with Jac before but she had a fantastic reputation and Serena was getting desperate.

"What about Antoine Malick?"

"Only got one hand, stands out a bit too much now. Long con players are a dying breed these days, there's a credit crunch on."

Her hand rested at her throat, thoughtfully rubbing the pendant on her chain.

"I know, I know. Well, it looks like we're going to do this one solo."

"Seems that way, look I need to go and you need to prepare the penthouse. I'll see you there at half six okay?"

"Absolutely."

She placed the phone carefully next to her laptop and watched the screen. A new website for Sharpe Associates, boasting high profit margins for clients had been created, the visitor count blinking in the corner. A beep announced someone had accessed the site. _Some people just can't help themselves._ She smiled to herself. She was very much looking forward to meeting Ms. Emily Lewis later.

She made a few more phone calls, making sure she had enough champagne and fancy nibbles for tonight, then flicked through the clothes she had bought.

Serena smoothed down her dress one last time as Fletch addressed the people assembled in the penthouse suite. A last check that everything was absolutely perfect. Her clothes were boosting her confidence, she wanted to be seen as a woman who was arrogant and knew she looked good. She had chosen a fitted maroon dress, just pushing over the line between business and occasion wear, thanks to the way it hugged her waist and accentuated her hips, paired with killer heels and a fitted short blazer to keep it more professional.

"Okay everyone, thanks for coming. Just a few words before we start. We're playing a condensed version of 'The Rag'. Serena here is Harriet Sharpe, she helps people with stocks and shares investments and has made you all an absolute tonne of money, but you're not quite sure of her methods. I'm Andrew Taylor-Smith, I'm your host this evening," Fletch looked carefully at the group gathered in front of him then pointed at a young blonde woman, probably in her early twenties. "What's your name?"

"Jasmine." She replied, eyes wide and blinking prettily.

"Jasmine, darling, it's your lucky night. You're my mistress, just follow me around, hang off my every word and laugh at all of my jokes. It shouldn't be too hard, I am of course irresistible."

There was a murmur of laughter, Serena coughed, reminding Fletch to keep his focus.

"Right, the mark is Emily Lewis, she'll be here soon. Keep her away from Serena at first, tell her how much money you've made from Ms. Sharpe, charm her, you know the drill. Any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads and Fletch indicated for them to get into positions. Serena picked up a glass of champagne from a table almost buckling under the weight of bottles. The unnecessary expense for a small gathering boasted riches and arrogance. The bell rang and the tension in her shoulders lifted. It had been a worry, at the back of her mind that she wouldn't turn up, the one thing in this plan she couldn't control.

Fletch went to answer the door and Serena tucked herself into the far corner, putting as many people between her and Ms. Lewis as possible. She wanted to observe her from afar, part of the reason Fletch had asked the guests to delay Emily's progress through the room. She felt like she knew a lot about this woman, from Henrik's information and Fletch's observations after meeting her, but she liked to see and assess for herself. It meant she could find the weak spots, the ways she was going to convince this woman to give Serena her money.

She paused with her glass to her lips as Fletch showed their mark into the suite, followed by a young man. _The photographs did not do her justice,_ she mused, allowing herself a few moments to appreciate the woman who had just entered the room. It had been a while since a mark had caught her eye, even longer since a woman had.

Serena had guessed correctly, her legs went on for days, elongated by black stilettos. She was wearing a simple black dress, finishing juts above the knees. A plunging neckline adorned with jewels drew the eye downwards from her neck, past collarbones that could be classed as weapons.

She checked herself, _no time to mix work and play_ , and focused on the man accompanying her. He was younger, well-groomed and looking around in awe. Probably an assistant, not used to mixing with the elite of the business world. He scurried behind her, grabbing her purse which she thrust towards him dismissively, not looking over her shoulder, instead scouring the room until she found Serena.

Bernie accepted the glass of champagne with the briefest of smiles, Andrew seemed to have found an even more potent cologne tonight and it stuck at the back of her throat. She tried to ignore his hand on the small of her back as he showed her through to the main room. She handed Dom her purse, he was under strict instructions to be as meek and under her thumb as possible.

"He'll have orange juice," she ordered as Andrew tried to hand Dom a glass of bubbly. "Is Harriet Sharpe here?"

Andrew looked taken aback for a mere second, then composed himself.

"Yes, yes, I'll introduce you later. Relax, have a drink. Jasmine, darling, come and meet some people," he waved over a young slip of a girl, wide eyed and giggling, already intoxicated it seemed. She couldn't wait to complete the con and have the satisfaction of knowing this sanctimonious prick would lose money too.

She whispered in his ear and a grin spread across his face. She sauntered off and he leaned towards Bernie.

"Lovely girl, enthusiastic. Of course, sometimes it's nice to have someone with a bit more, ah, experience."

She felt Dom tense slightly behind her, but she could handle it.

"Well maybe you could spend some time with your wife." She tilted her head and stepped back slightly, as Andrew excused himself without a comment. She scanned the room, catching sight of the woman she had come here to speak to. She was engaged by others and had her back to Bernie.

Andrew tapped her on the shoulder and murmured in her ear, a surreptitious glance in Bernie's direction that made her certain they were talking about her. She started her way over to them but was intercepted by a man in a dark grey suit, introducing himself and raving about Harriet.

She only half-listened, nodding in the right places and tried not to be too distracted when Andrew pulled Dominic to one side. She caught the conversation, Dominic playing the eager-to-please PA part well.

Andrew moved back towards Harriet and she made her excuses with the man who was still droning on about some stock prices. She almost made it when she was waylaid a second time. She forced a smile on her face, it was quite obvious these people had been asked to play up Harriet, to impress her and make her more eager to invest. For Bernie it was all quite tiring, she wanted to get straight down to business.

"Stop staring at her!" Fletch's voice cut through Serena's thoughts.

"I'm not staring, just making sure everything goes to plan." She turned so that there was no chance they could be overheard. "What's the deal with the PA?"

"Seems harmless enough, I think he's got a little crush on her."

Serena snorted at this.

"He does not, I'm fairly sure he isn't interested in women at all. I think it's time I met Ms. Lewis properly, don't you?"

Fletch nodded and made his way over to her. Serena saw her bored expression change immediately and after a few words she was marching purposefully behind Fletch.

"Harriet, this is Emily, and her PA."

Serena reached out and clasped her hand, her heels were slightly taller, bringing their eyes level. They shook hands, a tight squeeze from Emily to show she meant business.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

She had a deep, rich voice, enunciating her words in a clipped manner.

"And you," Serena replied.

"Emily here was hoping to pick your brains. She's looking to invest in the markets."

Serena rolled her eyes.

"Andrew, it would be nice if your guests asked me something more interesting than where they should invest their money."

She turned to pick a fresh glass, the arrogant, dismissive persona coming to her easily.

"Okay, I've got a different question."

Serena fixed Emily with a stare, one eyebrow raised.

"And what would that be?"

"Are you always this rude or have we caught you on a bad day?"

 _Wow, Henrik wasn't kidding when he said she was bold._ She let the silence hold for a moment then started to laugh. Fletch followed her lead, joining in, and the other two chuckled lightly.

"Well, a lady that isn't afraid to speak her mind."

She tilted her head cockily, a half smile playing on her lips.

"Doesn't bother you, does it?"

"On the contrary, I find it _incredibly_ refreshing," she managed to stop herself from saying attractive, although that was part of it. She couldn't quite suss this woman out, Serena sensed there was more of a backstory to her, more than just a greed driven investor. She was ready to ramp up the flirting if she responded well, but didn't want to go too far with it.

"Well, you're clearly mixing with the wrong kind of people," she gestured around the room. "I like to limit the amount of time I spend with men like this. They're rather dull and predictable."

"Oh, is that right?" She smiled, they agreed on that fact at least. City men had three topics of conversation: themselves, money and women. "Why don't you stay, after these people have gone? You can remind me what it's like to have an interesting conversation."

Serena turned on her heels and strutted across the room, confident that she would stay to discuss opportunities for investment. Now was just a case of continuing to mingle for a suitable amount of time, allow the fake guests to leave in dribs and drabs to make the party as convincing as possible.


	3. Reeling in the Mark

Fletch showed out the last guests and Serena indicated for Emily and her PA to sit as she opened the cupboard they had stocked earlier that day. Although on these occasions she would prefer a large Shiraz, she felt her persona, Harriet, and certainly Fletch's, would be partial to brandy.

The door to the suite closed and Fletch sighed audibly, she knew he was partially clearing his throat to put on the upper-class accent.

"Well, Jasmine's in the bathroom throwing up so that's slap and tickle off the menu," he laughed, but no one smiled back. In fact, Emily pulled a face of pure disgust. Serena tutted at him, whilst she was playing an arrogant businesswoman, she was certain that the way to connect with Emily would be to appear as an equal. A ruthless woman and disapproving of such discussions.

"It's probably for the best, Andrew, I'm not sure your heart could cope with the activity. Make sure she's alright and I'll pour us all drinks. Brandy?"

She looked at the PA, who nodded eagerly but a voice interrupted.

"Absolutely not, go and wait by the door."

Emily shooed him away, he looked disappointed for a second then followed orders. Serena set out three brandy glasses and poured carefully, taking the time to plan the next conversation.

"So, have you known Andrew long?" She enquired as she offered the glass. It had to be seamless and give no indication that it was a set up.

Long fingers reached out to grasp it, nails painted red. She was sat tall, legs crossed and she leant slightly forwards. Serena went more casual, shrugging off her blazer and settling on the other end of the sofa, one arm draped out. She wanted to own the room, ensure that Emily knew who was in control, of her money and the situation.

"We met this morning."

"And he's already offering you investment advice?" Serena raised an eyebrow and shared a look with her, almost conspiratorial. She reminded herself not to enjoy this too much, whilst attractive, Emily Lewis was a prime example of why Serena went into grifting in the first place.

"I'm not naive Ms. Sharpe. I know he has no interest in helping me to invest my money."

"Oh?" She asked innocently, as Fletch returned to the room from 'checking' on Jasmine in the bedroom.

"However, I am certain he is interested in getting into my designer knickers," she lowered her voice for the last part, looking straight at Serena, then smirked. "Once Jasmine's back at sixth form after the holidays, of course."

Serena bit back a smile whilst Fletch laughed, loud and short. 'Andrew' was of course not ashamed of his much younger mistress, or to have a reputation of offering favours to attractive women.

"Can I put my cards on the table, Ms. Sharpe?" The mood turned serious, she clearly wanted to get to business. Eager, just perfect for Serena's plans.

"I came here to invest my money, but I'm new to the markets and I would appreciate a small nudge in the right direction."

Serena tilted her head and sat forwards.

"A nudge?"

"I don't like gambling. I want to have an edge, a guarantee of where I'm putting my money and what I'll get in return. I've heard that's your forte?"

"You seem remarkably well informed."

She glanced at Fletch, pretending to give him a disapproving look.

"How much are you looking to invest?"

"Well I thought I'd start slowly, perhaps a million, to begin with."

Serena almost coughed on her drink. She hadn't been expecting so much, this woman was either trying to show off how rich she was, that a million didn't matter, or else was incredibly greedy. She saw Fletch's eyebrows shoot up, although he composed himself quickly.

"That's a large sum for your first investment," she stated, keeping the surprise from her voice.

"It will be enough to let me see if your advice is worth following or not," Emily retorted, not missing a beat. She was interested, Serena knew she had to get the ball rolling to be ready for the next stage. She retrieved a card from the inside of her blazer and passed it across the sofa.

"Come to my office tomorrow and we'll discuss further."

She placed the card in her purse after taking a moment to glance at it, then stood and offered her hand. Serena grasped it confidently, meeting the same strength. It lingered, neither wanting to show weakness or give in. A power play between the two of them which Emily relented.

"Tomorrow then," she looked to the top of the stairs where her PA had reappeared. "I thought I told you to wait by the door."

The PA mumbled an apology and followed her down the stairs. She didn't even give Fletch a glance, let alone a goodbye. He stood next to Serena and watched them go. After a few seconds had passed he relaxed and reverted to his usual cockney accent.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you two were flirting," he chuckled but Serena said nothing, merely sipped the brandy and dropped back down to the sofa, contemplating.

She would say it was all part of the act, or that it was just her nature to flirt with everyone, but it wouldn't be entirely true. There was definitely something about this woman that got her a bit hot under the collar. Nothing could happen of course, in a matter of days they would never meet again and Serena would have a large sum of her money, but it never hurt to imagine.

Serena sat on a bench, warming herself in the summer sun as she waited for the call from Fletch. It had only been ten minutes since he entered City Central House, one of the smaller trading centres in London, so she had nothing better to do than run through the plan once more.

Fletch had called the receptionist, posing as 'Terry from maintenance', who was having trouble checking all of the office phones because some people weren't answering. He'd enquired who was on holiday, and fortunately for them Mr Harris in Room 610 was on leave until Monday. Of course, they'd be long gone by then and his office would be the perfect space from which to run their con.

All they needed was to get into that office without being suspected and without passes. The key to pulling off anything like that was confidence. Trading centres were busy and intense, bankers focused on doing their job to make money and they wanted as few distractions as possible. They rarely took ten seconds to look at someone walking past in a suit, and that played right to a grifter's advantage.

Fletch was a master of diversions, of finding opportunities and improvising where he went. He'd been observing the foyer of the centre for a while and quickly come up with a plan.

Fletch entered the foyer and, making sure no one was watching, dropped a match into the waste bin. He sat on a chair and waited for the smoke to be noticed and the security man to leave his post. After about a minute he stood, making his way to the lift without having to show a pass.

His next task was to attach the live feed transmitter to a banker's computer on the trading floor. He straightened his back and strode purposefully, no one batted an eyelid. He scoured the area, searching for the banker who looked most harassed and least likely to question what he was doing. He spotted the perfect man, about three rows away.

"IT here, someone reported a fault on the internal server?"

The man shrugged and continued to reel off a string of information into his headset.

"Is everything working okay?" Fletch asked, as he knelt beside the desk.

"Yeah, fine, look I haven't got time for this." He turned back to his screen, clearly dismissing him.

"You won't even notice I'm here," he added, more to himself than anyone. He opened his case and found a screwdriver, opening the connecting hub and attaching the small transmitter to it. When they were done he would return to collect it, but no one was likely to look under the desk, and most people that worked there would assume the black box was part of the normal technology.

He patted the businessman on the back as he left, but he didn't look up. A few polite nods to people as he walked back to the lifts and he was free, making his way to Room 610, which Mr Harris was unknowingly renting out to them for the next few days.

Luckily this building used old fashioned locks with keys, rather than swipe cards for entering rooms. Fletch could unlock any door, but he preferred traditional methods rather than hacking into security systems. It left less of a trace.

Once inside he took note of a few things he would need. He rang down to the main reception, the second part of the plan to ensure Serena entry underway.

"Building Management here, darling. Health and safety have been on about the little fire situation. Someone from Environmental Services is coming over, send them up to the sixth floor I'll meet them there."

He barely let her pause to question anything, finishing with a firm "thank you" and putting the phone down. Next phone call was to order a big screen for a 'presentation'. The tech guys agreed with no complaints. Fletch checked his watch, they had about half an hour before Emily turned up.

Serena felt the phone vibrate in her pocket and she jumped up, eager to get started.

 **We're on, tell reception you're from Environmental Services they're expecting you. F.**

She wasn't nervous, the plan was meticulous and covered all bases, the feeling in her stomach was the adrenaline causing her to almost thrum with anticipation. She had missed this, couldn't imagine leaving the thrill behind forever.

She smiled at the young girl on reception, stating her business. She waved her towards the lift, telling her to go to the sixth floor. The security guard let her past, wishing her a good day. Fletch greeted her at the lift door and she followed him into the meeting room.

There were two men installing a large screen, a big desk with several mobile phones lying in neat rows and a pristine white corner sofa. The whole office was modern, almost clinical, with full height windows looking over the city.

Fletch was making a few final adjustments, connecting wires here and there.

"So how is this going to work?" She enquired, running over everything in her head.

He pointed at the monitor on the desk.

"I've taken a wireless feed from the trading floor upstairs, which goes directly to this screen here. Then this little gadget," he indicated to a small black box attached to the underside of the desk, hidden from view, "records the feed and delays it by about a minute, before feeding it to the big screen."

"That means I can see which companies are going up or down before she does?"

"Exactly, you'll look like a genius. I'll make calls to these phones, pretending to be your 'inside knowledge', then you use the headset to 'buy' and 'sell' shares, just before she sees what's happening on the screen."

She nodded and arranged the earpiece and microphone, checking in her pocket mirror that it wasn't making her hair stick out. Fletch checked his watch and glanced out of the window.

"It's time I wasn't here."

"It's nice to see you haven't lost your touch," she smiled, impressed by how much he'd managed to arrange at short notice.

"Well, a bit rusty but it's all coming back," he winked and then left her to it. She double checked the screens, seeing the stock markets change on the desk monitor well before the bigger one that Ms. Lewis would be watching. _Much easier than actually trying to predict the markets, or bribing companies,_ she mused.

This part of the plan was to show Ms Lewis exactly what she could gain by investing in the scheme. Fletch would bring her up to the office, so Serena had to be supposedly talking to another client, giving them advice. After about ten minutes she heard his voice approaching the door.

"She's stuck on a call at the moment, but I'll show you in."

 _And so it begins._

"I've had a whisper that their results are worse than forecast," she announced, to no one in particular, and gestured for Emily and her PA to sit on the sofa. "Sell quietly, stay under the radar…"

She trailed off, Emily had not made a move to sit, but instead was looking around the room with interest. Part of Serena's mind was trying to spot if anything was off, if anything could give them away, but Fletch had done a good job.

The other half of her brain had stalled, taking in the sight of this woman's business dress. Her hair was swept up into a clasp, leaving just her fringe free, her face open and a sharp jawline topping the column of her neck. She had a grey satin, possibly silk, shirt on, unbuttoned to leave a delightful peek of the collarbones she had noticed the night before. The fabric clung to her in all the right places, the sleeves ending just below her elbows and tucked in at the waist of the black pencil skirt. That reached her knees, sculpting out her body almost sinfully. There was a sliver of skin on show below the hem, before her legs were covered once more by black suede knee high boots that seemed to Serena to be a second skin. _Wow._

She played off the pause as if listening to her 'caller', but it didn't go unnoticed by Fletch, who was biting back a grin. She was going to get teased relentlessly.

"Yes, exactly, I've got to go," she finished her fake phone call, then fixed Fletch with a hard stare. "Thank you, Andrew."

He got the message, and nodded his head towards Emily, lingering on her decolletage, possibly only part of his act. It was rather mesmerising.

"Please, have a seat, Ms. Lewis, and you can watch the magic happen," she winked, well she might as well have a bit of fun while she was here. The big screen was already on, showing a 'live' feed of the stock markets. She seated herself behind her desk, ready for Fletch to ring the mobiles in front of her, keeping an eye on the computer monitor which would give her the 'insight' into which companies to buy and sell.

It was less than a minute before the phone rang, she picked it up, fully expecting Fletch to have some witty comment, aimed at throwing her off.

"Yes?" She had to keep up the arrogant appearance.

"Is she fluttering her eyelids at you yet?" His voice was echoing slightly, she presumed he was calling from the toilets. How classy.

"How sure are you?" She replied, without missing a beat.

"Make sure you're looking at your screen, instead of ogling her in that shirt." She didn't need the reminder, her eyes flicked to Emily, who was watching her intently.

"Thank you," she put the mobile down, checking which company was increasing in value, then put her hand to her ear, pretending to adjust the earpiece as she spoke into it.

"Buy Dawson and Hughes Chemicals, fifty thousand."

She smirked as she saw Emily's eyes widen when, a mere twenty-five seconds later, the price rose making that fifty thousand pounds worth more like a hundred thousand. Her PA was scribbling furiously on a notepad. She couldn't rest for too long though, as a second mobile buzzed.

"You've never had much luck with blondes have you?" She rolled her eyes internally at Fletch's jibe.

"When will this go public?"

"Of course, there's always a possibility she isn't that way inclined."

She didn't even bother with a thanks, pressing the end call button without really listening to what he said. Again, she spoke into her headset.

"I've had a heads up about Aldo Science. Sell whatever we're holding."

She smiled to herself as the two of them leant forwards, watching the shares plummet. They continued for another half an hour, Fletch's teasing getting more and more outrageous and her patience with him wearing thin. She felt that she had given Ms Lewis enough of a show, she could practically see the pound signs in her eyes, imagining the money she could make.

"How about lunch?" Emily suggested, it was the first thing she'd said all morning. Her voice was husky, just as Serena remembered from the night before. She looked meaningfully at her PA, who got the message to leave them to it.

"I know a very nice place, discrete as well, to talk business," she was firm, although she was sure this woman could take a bit of flirting she didn't want to give her any more ideas.


	4. Taking the Bait

Serena poured a glass of champagne for both of them once they were seated at a table in a window overlooking the river. The whole place was filled with people on business lunches, all engrossed in their own dealings to notice anything going on. Emily took a long sip, pursing her lips around the rim and regarding Serena with narrow eyes.

"So, it's either psychic abilities, or you have fantastic contacts," she quirked her lips into a half smile and Serena chuckled.

"The best contacts money can buy."

"Buy?" She raised her eyebrows, although Serena suspected it was only the pretence of innocence. She played along anyway.

"Well, most of the City is corrupt, one way or another," she paused, watching her reaction. Her face was almost impossible to read but she could almost sense a light behind her eyes, obviously she wanted to be in on the action. "Inside information becomes a commodity, just like everything else."

She looked like she was about to say something when Fletch arrived, settling into the final chair.

"Awfully sorry, all. Got held up." He helped himself to the champagne and took a large gulp, sighing loudly.

"Hello, Andrew," Ms. Lewis almost sneered, Serena could tell she wasn't glad of the interruption but she needed Fletch here to reel her in, part of the plan.

"How was the day, Ms. Lewis?" He enquired and she turned back to Serena, an amused spark in her eye.

"It was _very_ impressive."

"Did you pay the broker?" Serena asked him, sounding stern.

"Of course, but honestly Harriet you've spent six hundred thousand today. Do you have any idea what it's like carrying that sort of cash around?"

"Oh, come on Andrew where's all that stamina you're always talking about?" She leant across the table conspiratorially. "He's all mouth and no trousers. I do prefer someone that can match my pace."

Emily coughed quietly, Serena could see her blushing slightly, it was creeping up her neck. She shook her head and her fringe tumbled into her eyes. She swept it back with long fingers before continuing.

"You deal in cash?"

"If I were to buy stock in the usual fashion, there would be a feeding frenzy. So, I use cash, and no one knows what I buy, or when."

Emily nodded in understanding. "Imaginative accounting?"

"Exactly."

She noticed a change in Emily's body language. She was sat forwards, drawing herself up with a straight back. A clear sign she meant business.

"So, Harriet," she paused on her name, pronouncing each syllable carefully and finishing with a hard t. "I've seen what you can do, and I've decided I'd like you to do the same for me."

"That's awfully big of you," Serena responded matching her posture and placing her clasped hands on the table. "I take twenty percent commission."

"Agreed," Serena was surprised there was no haggling. "Although…"

 _Ah._ She wasn't sure what this request might be.

"I have a small request, something I learnt from my time in property. When someone else invests your money, the only way to guarantee they'll be careful with it is to ask them to match it."

She leant back and crossed her arms, a smug grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. Serena took a few moments to process what she was saying.

"Match it, as in a joint venture?"

"That way, they are gambling their money alongside yours. It's an act of faith."

"I'm listening." Serena knew she couldn't do anything else, it would look far too suspicious.

"We both put up million pounds, _you_ invest it all then we share the profits equally. If I lose, so do you," again she paused, as if choosing her next words carefully. She seemed thoughtful, insightful, in these moments, but this was soon replaced by a mischievous glint.

"Of course, the only people who ever refuse such a request either have no balls," her eyes flicked to Fletch who was watching the exchange with interest, obviously waiting to see what Serena would decide. "Or don't think they can live up to expectation."

She let it hang for a second, the anticipation thick in the air before Serena flashed her winning smile.

"Well in that case how could I possibly refuse?"

By then they had both finished the miniscule salad that passed as a meal in this restaurant, and Emily stood, dropping crisp notes down on the table.

"Good. Same time tomorrow then. I'll bring cash."

As she strutted out of the restaurant, Serena sat stunned, not watching her go. Fletch downed the rest of his drink.

"Well I didn't see this coming," he sounded defeated but Serena's mind was quick, always seeing opportunities. Henrik had told her a good grifter never quits at the first sign of adversity.

"Me neither but it plays right into our hands. If she thinks I've lost money, she's less likely to smell a rat. We make a profit at first, let her relax, then pick a company that's in freefall. Say it's a risky one but with huge profits, she agrees to invest and so we do. Then she sees it falling on the screen and I go mad at the informant. You get her out of there, but of course we'll already have taken the money."

"How? If I collect the money then she'll know I'll have it and demand it back."

"We need another person, and I've got just the right man in mind."

"Serena, good to see you again! And Fletch! It's been too long," Sacha hadn't opened the bar but they knew he would be there and had continued knocking on the door quite insistently. The eternally cheery bartender greeted them with a large grin despite the interruption.

They settled at the bar and made small talk with Sacha, catching up with everything before easing the conversation round to their request.

"So I take it you've got another con started?" He enquired, regarding their formal dress.

Serena grinned and appeared very interested in her drink. Sacha knew exactly what they got up to but they liked to keep up a slight pretence.

"Oooh look at her blush," Fletch nudges her and then lowers his voice. "Ms Campbell here gets a bit hot under the collar when we talk about the mark."

"Oh?" He questions, always there for a bit of gossip. "Well who's the lucky man that's about to lose all their money?"

"Ahh, it, it isn't a man," she purses her lips and then coughs, "she's loves to make money out of other people's misfortunes. And happens to be rather attractive, but that's beside the point. Sacha, is it possible your wardrobe extends to a suit?"

She gets straight to the point, not wanting to dwell anymore on her ever growing attraction to Ms Lewis.

"Yes…" he sounds wary, wondering where the conversation is heading.

"And what are you doing tomorrow at about eleven am?"

"Well I'll be getting the bar ready for the evening."

"No you won't," she smiled and patted his hand, "You'll be helping us."

He shook his head. "You know I don't get involved, I don't mind you using this place as your meeting point, but I am not becoming a grifter.

Serena sighed and fixed her most charming smile.

"You wouldn't be that involved. We need an extra pair of hands, all you need to do is enter a room, say a couple of words and pick up two briefcases. That's it."

He crossed his arms, she could see the battle going on in his mind. Despite him saying he didn't approve of what they did, she knew he'd always had an intrigue, a slight longing to be a part of it.

"What would be in it for me?"

She laughed triumphantly, knowing he was very tempted.

"We will pay for our drinks every time," she smiled sweetly.

"Ahh, but you were going to be doing that anyway, because you are good people that want to support your local bar. What else are you going to do?"

"Oh, you're a tricky one Sacha," Fletch remarked. "We've taught you well."

"Alright, we'll give you a share of the profits, cover what we owe you in drinks from before."

Sacha nodded and Serena began to explain the plan to him.

The three of them entered the City Central House, Fletch nodding to the security guard whom he had befriended the day before, with the promise of a recommendation for promotion following his good work putting out the bin fire the previous day.

They looked inconspicuous, Fletch in a suit and waistcoat, Sacha toning down his usual floral prints with a plain shirt, although the only tie he had was a purple blossom pattern. Serena had a tailored trouser suit and heels, carrying the brown briefcase in her left hand, a trio of business tycoons ready for a day's hard graft.

They were alone in the lift and Sacha was muttering what he had to say under his breath. Fletch patted him on the back.

"Remember, just wait in the loos until I come and get you, then go to room 610 and say your bit."

The lift door opened and they parted, Sacha heading to the men's room and Serena and Fletch to the meeting room. Serena ran it through once more, making sure they both knew what was going to happen.

"Okay, same as yesterday, but I'll only invest in companies increasing in value. After about an hour, I'll buy heavy in a company that's in freefall. All hell will break loose, but I will offer to help her recoup her losses tomorrow."

"By which time we'll be long gone."

"Exactly."

"Ready?"

Serena nodded as she turned on the two screens, double checked the phones were all on and then settled behind the desk, waiting for Fletch to bring them up. The briefcase was sat on the desk, they had spent hours yesterday making bundles of newspaper with a few fifty pound notes on top for show.

The door opened and Fletch courteously stood back, allowing Ms Lewis entry into the room. Her PA was a few steps behind as usual, carrying six or seven designer shopping bags. Emily on the other hand had a matte black briefcase. She was wearing slim trousers and a loose fitting white blouse without a collar, and a black scarf looped neatly around her neck.

"I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind," she started, extending a hand for the blonde to shake.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world. Nervous?" There was a challenge in her eyes, her thin lips pursed.

"Never," Serena quipped back, confident and calm. "Been spending your profits already I see?"

She glanced back at the PA who was struggling with the bags.

"I'm not convinced that's _any_ of your business, but yes. I have a dinner party this weekend."

She couldn't imagine the woman before her being at a dinner party, being in a house, having a home. It seemed too disconnected from the picture Serena had built of her, a greed driven business woman. She wondered briefly if she was married, perhaps with kids, but pushed that thought from her mind. It was time for business.

"And do you have your investment?"

She lifted the briefcase and her hands hovered over the clasp, not opening it just yet.

"Have you brought yours?"

Serena nodded and retrieved her own briefcase, they flicked them open in sync, both casting an eye over the money before them. Emily stared at Serena defiantly, as if daring her to count it, but Serena knew they had to trust each other, and show that trust, if this was going to work. Despite her misgivings about this woman, Serena knew she was here to make a profit and was more than happy to flash the cash

"Niceties over, if you put it over by the door, a broker's sending someone to collect it. Shall we get started?"

"I'll get some coffees sorted, shall I?" Fletch offered, leaving the room to prepare for his phone call, and to send Sacha in to collect the money.

No sooner had Emily and the PA sat down than the first phone was ringing. Serena picked it up, studying the screen before her, picking a company that was increasing in value.

"Okay Serena, Sacha's coming in a couple of minutes. Do your stuff."

"How certain are you? Yes, that's good enough for me," Serena put the phone down and spoke into the headset, falling into the same pattern as the previous day. "Put a hundred thousand in Fastco Logistics."

Serena watched the large screen and saw the smile flicker across Ms. Lewis' face as they made their first 'profit'.

"A good start," she mused, then glanced over at her PA. He was sat staring at the screen with a slightly puzzled expression, and still holding all the bags almost on his lap.

"Oh for God's sake, rather than sitting there like a moron, why don't you take the bags back to the hotel."

Her tone was clipped, the words almost sounding unnatural on her tongue, forced even. The PA mumbled an apology but stayed seated, staring at her like a lost puppy.

"You can bring the car back to get me later." She spelled out for him, as if talking to a child. He nodded meekly and stood, trying to hurry to the door. In his haste he dropped several of the bags, fumbling to pick them up. The blonde sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes towards Serena.

"He says he has a degree in business studies." Serena chuckled and watched the poor lad go. She'd no doubt had the same effect on people in her time but she felt a little sorry for him having to work for such a sharp-tongued woman.

She picked up another call from Fletch, continuing with some plausible business talk, when there was a knock on the door and Sacha entered.

"Ms. Sharpe, I'm here to make a collection."

She pointed to the briefcases.

"Those two there, tell Nick they're to go into a separate account."

"In your name, ma'am?"

"No," she glanced at the woman on the sofa, who had a slight glint in her eye, almost amused. "Sharpe and Lewis. Thank you."

He nodded and took the two cases, under instruction to hand them to Fletch. Ms Lewis was looking bored and unimpressed.

"So far, I make us up around two hundred thousand pounds, it's not exactly world shattering for a two million dollar investment."

Serena raised an eyebrow, surprised at quite how impatient she was.

"It's early yet, I'm waiting for the heads up on a couple of financial reports, they should have a big effect on the market value of the companies concerned. If we move quickly enough, well, we could make quite a killing."

She emphasised the last point, realising that they might have to speed up their plans and make a big investment in a failing company before she got too restless and pulled out. Serena didn't miss the slight eye roll as she was talking, she was glad that her arrogant persona was coming across well.

"Well in that case, I'll visit the ladies while I can."

Serena sat contemplating for a couple of minutes, thinking she should probably get Fletch to bring some coffee, as he had offered. She looked at her watch, realising it had been almost five minutes since Emily left, a long time considering the bathrooms were pretty much opposite the office.

She pulled out her own mobile, ringing Fletch who would be residing in the gents.

"She went to the bathroom five minutes ago. Perhaps you could take a look."

He stayed on the line and she heard him calling out, still in character.

"Anyone in? Damn gents is out of action and I've been caught a bit short!"

There was no response but she heard the bangs of Fletch checking each stall.

"She's not here."

"Shit."

Serena walked to the window, rubbing the hair at the nape of her neck.

"Oh shit," she repeated as she saw a car pull up to the front of the building and a familiar blonde head ducking into it. "Fletch have you got the cases?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Bring them in here, quick." She hung up and grabbed the jacket from the back of the chair.

Seconds later Fletch entered, carrying the two cases. She opened the brown one, the one they had filled with a few fifties and a lot of newspaper wrapped into bundles. She was met with several gossip magazines, definitely not what she was expecting. The next case was the one Ms. Lewis had brought. The top layer was twenty pound notes, but upon further inspection there was only newspaper underneath, the same trick that Serena had used in hers.

"We've been conned!" She stared at Fletch in disbelief. "They switched cases, that's outrageous!"

"Who the hell are they? Didn't you say it was Henrik who tipped you off?"

She nodded thoughtfully, thinking back to when she'd spoken to Hanssen. He'd had it all planned out, not just the mark, but both her and Fletch's alter egos, in fact the personalities they should play and the exact way they would entice the mark in.

She had assumed at the time it was that Henrik had too much time on his hands in prison and he knew her to well. It was the way she would have played the con if she'd thought of it herself. Now, there was a niggling doubt at the back of her mind. Perhaps it was because he'd set it up both ways, playing her against the woman posing as Emily Lewis.

"We need to clear up here and then pay him a visit."

Fletch nodded, starting to disconnect the feeds in the office.

"Give me five minutes."


	5. Revelations and Mysteries

Bernie didn't let herself relax until they had arrived at the basement flat they were renting. Dom had been chatting excitedly about everything they could buy with the money as he drove them through London. She had ignored most of it, tensely checking the rear-view mirror every few seconds to ensure they weren't being followed.

Once safely behind closed doors she pulled her hair out of the clasp and ran her fingers through it, sighing deeply. A million pounds had been a risk, but it was enough to set them up and meant that they wouldn't have to pickpocket or cheat just to get by. Now they could focus on their next goal, revenge on Dom's ex, which was going to require time, resources and a lot of planning.

"Finally, we can get out of this dump. I can have a penthouse, oooh with a butler. A gorgeous, ripped topless butler."

She laughed at Dom, it was good to see him so animated, so different to when they'd met at the residential rehabilitation unit.

"And we could do you an entire makeover, honestly Bernie you should dress like 'Emily Lewis' more often. Women _love_ a woman in a suit. Trust me."

"Since when do you know anything about what women like?" She retorted, flicking open the briefcase they had taken.

"I read things. And surely you saw the look when _she_ saw you in that blouse yesterday. And you're telling me you've never got hot under the collar when dealing with some businesswomen?"

She didn't respond, everything he said faded into the background as she flicked through the first bundle of cash she'd picked up. A fifty pound note on top, then newspaper cut to the exact size of a note. Every single stack the same. She turned to Dom.

"You switched the wrong one."

"What, no way! That's her case, I swear!"

"How can it be? You picked up our case and left her with her million pounds and a briefcase full of magazines."

At least they hadn't lost any money, she supposed. But it meant they would be staying in the one bedroom flat, taking turns to sleep on the sofa.

"That's the right case, Bernie. Ours was black and had twenties in it. You made sure we picked a different colour to theirs."

The initial shock and anger wore off, leaving her clear minded. He was right, when she'd watched Harriet, Andrew and an unknown man who'd later come to collect the cases, Harriet had been carrying a brown case. Bernie had called Dom, describing it to him so he could buy an identical one to swap. She'd used a black one so that the difference was clear. Which could only mean one thing.

"We've been conned!"

"I thought you said you'd found Harriet through a 'trusted source'," he used his fingers as quotation marks in the air. Bernie frowned.

"I did, I think we'd better talk to him."

Dom had barely pulled into the parking space when Bernie jumped out of the car and slammed the door. She looked back briefly to check that the entire car hadn't crumbled with the impact and strode purposefully towards the door. The security guard looked up from his newspaper, then quickly stood up and pulled his shoulders back at the sight of her furious expression.

"I'm here to visit Henrik Hanssen."

She knew he had privileges in the prison, that the visiting times didn't apply because he'd somehow managed to charm the guards.

"I- I- I'm sorry, ma'am he's got another visitor at the moment, I don't think he would like–"

"I don't care, tell him Bernie Wolfe is here and he needs to answer some questions," she drew herself to her full height, easily falling back into her army Major, commanding and confident. He nodded and picked up the phone on his desk, relaying the message to another security guard. Bernie drummed her fingers against the desk impatiently. Dom caught up just as the guard waved them over.

"He says he was expecting you and to send you through," he shrugged and pointed her towards the search area.

She was working out what she was going to say to Hanssen, how he could have got the mark so wrong, as they were shown through to the visiting area. Anything she had planned went out of her brain as she saw exactly who his other visitor was.

"Ah, Ms. Wolfe, how good of you to join us. I believe you've already met."

Her jaw dropped and she suspected the look of shock on the brunette's face was similar to her own.

"You," she stated, not able to form any other thought. "I'm guessing you're not Harriet Sharpe?"

Hanssen chuckled and they both turned to look at him.

"Serena Campbell, Adrian Fletcher," he nodded to the people she had previously known as Ms. Sharpe and Andrew Taylor-Smith. "Meet Berenice Wolfe and Dominic Copeland."

"No, not Campbell and Fletch?" She said in disbelief. She'd heard of them, every grifter in London had, but she'd had no idea that Campbell was a woman. _An attractive one at that_. She extended a hand out to shake, still trying to process the information. "We've conned Campbell and Fletch?"

The brunette, _Serena,_ spoke for the first time.

"I think you'll find it's the other way around."

"Oh really?" She crossed her arms and sat in the chair next to her, leaning back with a smirk. "I thought we got clean away."

"With nothing," Serena raised an eyebrow and Bernie had a feeling this expression had caused grown men's knees to shake. She wasn't put off.

"I don't see you carrying a million pounds."

A polite cough from across the table interrupted them, and Bernie could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, as if being chastised by a teacher. Serena wasn't fazed.

"It seems we've all been part of someone else's game. I take it you were given me as a mark?"

Bernie nodded and saw the amused glint in Hanssen's eyes.

"Just think of it as me…oiling the wheels."

He explained how he had asked one of the prison officers to take photos of them, had created a front for each of them, Andrew Taylor-Smith, a sucker for a pretty face, Harriet Sharpe a maverick trader that deals in cash and Emily Lewis a new investor looking for an easy profit. He watched them both carefully as he spoke, gauging their reactions. They sat in silence for a couple of seconds before Serena spoke.

"So how did you two meet?"

"It was a few weeks before I ended up in here actually," Henrik started, but Bernie indicated she wanted to explain. She found herself wanting to show the real side of her, in case Serena was under the impression that Bernie shared too many personality traits with 'Emily Lewis'.

"I was playing the casino circuit, with Dom here, getting enough money to scrape by, pay rent, and Mr. Hanssen began to notice me. I mentioned to him that I wanted to do a few long cons, get back into the swing of things because there is someone that I've got lined up, but I needed a bit of practice first. He taught me, even after he got locked up I would come and visit, then eventually he told me he'd found the perfect mark…you."

Serena didn't look impressed, but Bernie felt that was more directed at Henrik than herself. He held his hands up.

"You told me you were looking for a new crew," he said, as if it was the most obvious point in the world.

"You could have just introduced us Henrik. You know, like a normal person?"

"There's not as much fun in that, Serena. Besides, I believe it's important for you all to see what the others can do."

She sniffed but made no comment. Instead she fixed Bernie with a measured stare.

"Well, then Berenice. Perhaps we should get a drink." Her eyes widened as she glanced at the others. "All, we should, ahem, all get a drink."

"Bernie, please." She didn't miss Fletch, who had been silent through the whole exchange, biting his lip to hide a smile.

It was quieter in Sacha's when they arrived, and Serena was glad to see that her old booth was free. She waved at Sacha who smiled back, then looked on in confusion as the person he thought they were conning followed her.

"Henrik's idea of a game, pitting two grifters against each other. Bernie Wolfe and Dominic Copeland."

He shrugged, he'd known odder things happen in the time that Serena had been frequenting his bar.

"New crew then?"

She looked over her shoulder at where the three of them sat, Dominic animatedly telling a story. There was no doubt that she could see them all getting on, but were these two the right people?

"We'll see, a bottle of your finest shiraz please."

"Ah," he held up a finger. "Remember our agreement, you have to pay up front for your drinks. I do need to make a profit."

She raised an eyebrow but smiled and passed him the money in exchange for the bottle and four glasses. She sat down opposite Bernie who met her eyes, smiling and dipping her head in thanks. She observed the changes in her, her hair was a little more flyaway, no neat parting and sleek twist. The tense way she held her shoulders back had loosened, there was no arrogant strut, she didn't look down her nose as if she was above everything.

It was evident now that it had all been a front, just as Serena had put up. Of course they had clashed, but perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if they worked together, learned from each other. She needed someone on her wavelength, Henrik knew that and he rarely made mistakes. It came down to trust, something Serena didn't do easily. How did she feel about Berenice Wolfe? Attracted, certainly, intrigued, most definitely. But trust?

"So we're all working together now then?" Dom asked, cutting through her thoughts.

"No," she said flatly. She felt wrong-footed, out of control. Bernie didn't look surprised, maybe a hint of disappointment. Fletch caught her eyes, he understood how she felt, although she could see he didn't agree. "I choose my own crew."

She knew it sounded petty, stubborn. Her mother's voice piped up. _You always were a petulant child._

"Oh come on! The four of us we could make a fortune!" Dom was enthusiastic, looking around the table for support. He found it in Fletch.

"Hanssen's been to a lot of trouble, and you know what he's like, he'll only set us up again. He's stubborn," he winked at Serena. "A bit like you."

"I don't like being manipulated, even by Henrik."

"Look," Bernie said, the first time she'd spoken since they'd been at the prison. "If nothing else, this was fun. I don't want to stand on anyone's toes. How about I buy the next round, and we'll wish each other luck? Dom, help me with the drinks."

She stood, retrieving her purse and when they were out of earshot Fletch leaned close to Serena.

"You have to admit, Serena, she was good. And I've told you, grifters are a dying breed, who else are you going to find?"

"I don't know, Fletch."

"You're just annoyed that Henrik deceived you and put out that she managed to con us. I want to start grifting again, I need to for the kids, but we can't do it on our own. And don't tell me you wouldn't enjoy having her around, you always moan that it's an old boy's club."

She pursed her lips, he made a good point. Although quiet, Bernie seemed to be on the same level as Serena. Another glass of wine was presented to her, although Bernie had swapped to whiskey.

"Okay, I have a proposition. As much as I know I'm going to regret this, I suppose we could try one score," she held up a finger, seeing the small smile return to Bernie's lips. "Just to see how it goes."

"I'm sure we won't let you down."

"It's my crew though," Serena continued. "I have the last word in everything."

"Let's see if the City is ready for us," Bernie raised her glass and the four of them toasted. She knocked back the drink in one and Sacha brought over another, almost on cue.

"Careful, Fletch, looks like we've found someone that could drink you under the table." Serena quipped and Bernie laughed. It was a shocking sound, from someone so softly spoken, loud and honking, causing a few heads to turn.

"Oh, I've had a lot of practice. Being able to handle your alcohol comes in useful when your income relies on you beating drunk businessmen at poker."

"When did you get so good at poker?"

There was a pause, Bernie sipped her drink, as if considering what to say. Serena admired her thoughtfulness, how she used words in a meaningful way.

"There aren't many forms of entertainment in Afghanistan and Iraq. I was undefeated three tours in a row."

Serena raised an eyebrow, this new information adding to how she saw the woman before her. Another aspect of her life, a puzzle piece slotting in. The quiet confidence and authority explained. There were still a lot of questions.

"You were in the army?" She nodded, not offering any more, but Serena's mind had jumped, made a connection. "Major?"

Bernie narrowed her eyes, Fletch and Dom watching on confused.

"Yes, as it happens. How did you know?"

"A friend, ex-grifter, told me he'd heard of someone new. I'm impressed you've made a name for yourself so quickly. I, uh, may have underestimated you a little."

Bernie blushed, the redness creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She smiled shyly over the top of her glass, her eyes flicking from Serena's to the table. She was clearly not used to hearing compliments, but it suited her. The glow of the bar made her hair almost shimmer, and Serena almost longed to reach over and move the fringe away from her eyes, to stop her from hiding behind it.

"Ahem, well, uh, what happened to make you leave the army? You said you were wanting to 'get back' into cons?" She prompted, not quite sure of how long she'd been staring.

"Roadside IED blew me back to reality. I learnt to pickpocket, do street cons and play poker as a kid, and I found myself in need of an income."

An image of a young girl, scruffy and passing unnoticed through the streets of London, came into Serena's mind. She wasn't quite sure it fitted with the Bernie sat in front of her. There was obviously a story to tell, but she was reserved, after all, this was the first time they'd met, really. Bernie wasn't lying; only telling what was necessary. Whether that was out of lack of trust for Serena in particular, or everyone in general, she was unsure. She suspected the latter, a hunch that Bernie's childhood had not been an easy one.

"What about a fella to come back to?" Fletch piped in, which caused Dom to cough into his drink. Bernie looked startled for a second, then glanced at Serena nervously.

"Ah, no, no the good ship matrimony is well and truly holed below the waterline and went down fast."

It almost felt like something deflating, to hear that she had been married. She wouldn't label it disappointment as such, she barely knew the woman, but she felt cheated. The flirting over the past two days was just for show, part of Bernie's plan in the con. She wondered at the circumstances surrounding their divorce, whilst raising her glass in mock toast.

"Ah, nice to have a fellow embittered ex-wife, I do believe we're better off without men. Especially alcoholic bankers who can't keep it in their pants and have no concept of fidelity."

Bernie nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. Dom filled the gap.

"How about you, Fletch? Dating? Married?"

"I'm flattered, but you're not my type, mate. Single."

"Don't worry, you're not mine either," he laughed. So, snap."

"Snap," she and Bernie echoed, almost in unison.

"Looks like this is a sex free zone," Bernie smirked.

"Ah, yes. We prefer to live like nuns, keeps you sharp." She almost threw in a wink, stopping herself and settling on a half-smile and a raised eyebrow. Bernie laughed, and the rest joined in, settling into relaxed conversation.

Bernie sat back for the conversation, considering the whirlwind of events that had occurred in the last few hours. She'd gone from thinking she'd made a million pounds to having the opportunity to work alongside one of the most prolific and best grifters around. Who she had almost conned. Who happened to be rather attractive.

She felt embarrassed by her previous flirting. It had been part of her act, she would never be that confident outside of a con, but now she knew it had been pretend on Serena's part as well she was worried that there was some misunderstanding. Serena obviously wasn't interested inthe _real_ Bernie, whether she was interested in the bold, forthcoming _Ms. Emily Lewis_ was unknown.

She sipped her drink, trying to stop herself from overthinking and concentrated on the conversation. Dom was in his element, happily exchanging jokes and anecdotes with these two strangers. Bernie envied his confidence, she'd never been one for small talk.

She felt the events of the day catching up with her, inwardly cursing the reminder that she still wasn't completely fit, that her body wasn't keeping up with how she felt mentally. She tried to hide the yawn behind her hand, but Serena saw and grinned.

"I'd have thought you'd have more stamina after the army," she said with a chuckle. If she'd been more awake she might have blushed, stammered, but the retort found its way out of her mouth before she could think about it.

"Well, it turns out being technically dead for a minute and almost paralysed isn't great for maintaining a fitness routine." She winced slightly, usually she reserved her sarcasm for those closest to her, that she was comfortable with. It must be a combination of the alcohol and tiredness. She ignored the niggling feeling that it was actually the company.

Serena laughed and drained her glass.

"I think we could all do with a rest, we need to be on top form if we're going to make a success of this." She indicated around the table then stood. "I'll be in touch in the next few days."

Bernie nodded as she left, then turned to Dom. "Well I think it's your turn on the sofa tonight."


End file.
